The Right Time
by BeneathTheUmbrella
Summary: Ted and Tracy take their relationship to the next level. Follow-up to Drunk in Love.


_Well, we've made it to Ted and Tracy's first time. I apologize in advance to whomever was anticipating more smut here. I was going for a less-is-more thing. Enjoy!_

* * *

Less than a week earlier, Ted had gotten validation that Tracy wanted him, in every sense of the word. He had to turn down her advances given her slightly intoxicated state that night, but he had promised her that they'd talk more about taking their relationship to the next level. But, as normally was the case, life got in the way.

Tracy started up her internship on Monday, and Ted, having convinced the Dean of the architecture department at Columbia to take him back, began teaching a summer course on Tuesdays and Thursdays. They quickly realized that, after having spent two weeks practically joined at the hip, real life was now settling in, and that they had to be grown-ups and get back to their individual responsibilities.

So, on the days he wasn't teaching, he showed up at the UN building with lunch for Tracy, and they spent her hour-long break eating together on a nearby bench; Ted felt that this could be a summer ritual he could get used to. He briefly saw her on Tuesday evening, but she sent him to MacLaren's to hang out with Barney and Robin instead, as she was trying to finish up some work, but he was being too much of a distraction. (He admitted, nuzzling her neck while she was trying to pore over some important documents probably wasn't the smartest idea.)

But now it was Friday, and Ted was hoping to make their night together particularly special. He wasn't going to make any assumptions, and he was pretty much going to let Tracy call the shots on whether tonight would, in fact, be _the_ night. But he found everything he needed to make waffles for her the next morning, just in case. And he _may_ have stocked up on candles from Bed, Bath & Beyond should the need for romantic ambiance arise. And he picked up dinner from her favourite restaurant, and got her favourite bottle of wine. Even if nothing came of their evening, just having a few hours to themselves without work or any other responsibilities was something to look forward to, in his opinion.

Ted was setting up the dinner table when there was a knock at his door. He opened it up, and Tracy was standing there, looking a bit tired after a long workday, but beautiful. "Hey, you. God, you're a sight for sore eyes," she said softly, giving him a kiss.

"Hi," he said sympathetically. "Long day?"

"Yeah. It was one of those days when you realize you're just an intern, and people treat you as such," she admitted.

"You're more than a "just a", I promise you," he told her. "I take it you need a glass of red?"

Tracy just nodded as she made her way to the sofa and launched herself onto it, exhausted.

"Did you find the place ok?" he asked as he popped open the cork and poured a couple of glasses for them. He walked over to the couch, and sat next to her.

"Yup," she said, taking the glass of wine Ted offered her gratefully, and taking a long sip. "Mmm. So this is Ted Mosby's place?" she said, looking around. "It's nice. Two floors," she noted.

"Want me to give you the tour?" he asked. He couldn't believe that, almost three weeks in, she was only now seeing his apartment for the first time. But his place wasn't presentable, as he still had a bunch of his stuff in boxes until just a couple of days earlier. Plus, her place was just homey**—**he much preferred to hang out there anyway.

"In a bit," she said, eyes closed. "I just want to sit here with you first. How was your day?"

"Busy," he said. "Went over next week's lesson plan in the morning, and then just ran around to get things ready for tonight. I got you some Greek food from Costa's Castle."

"Oh!" she said excitedly, peering over at the candlelit table. "Did you get the dolmas?"

"Yep," he said proudly.

"Some moussaka?"

"Of course!"

"The extra pita bread for dipping?"

"I even bought some of that amazing aged balsamic to mix with the olive oil," he told her.

"God, if I weren't actually hungry, I'd just devour you first," she said in a throaty tone. She leaned over and kissed him passionately, Ted responding in kind, loving the feel of her lips on his, and the taste of wine on her tongue.

"Mmm," he murmured. "We can get to that later, I promise. You ready to eat?"

"Can I go freshen up first?" she asked. "I need to splash some water on my face, and want to get out of these work clothes."

"You're going to eat in your underwear?" he asked, and looked down at his dark-wash jeans ans his plaid button-up shirt. "I think I may be overdressed."

"Ted!" she said, blushing, and giving him a playful shove. "I have another outfit in my bag!"

"Ah, my mistake. Dammit," he said with a grin. "The bathroom's over there."

She grabbed her purse, and retreated to the bathroom. Ted nervously ran his hand through his hair; maybe he shouldn't have insinuated anything about her in her underwear. She seemed nervous after he made his comment, but also a bit delighted. Ted had to be good and not make any sexually-laced comments for the rest of the evening...

Tracy exited the bathroom a few minutes later, and Ted's jaw practically hit the floor. Gone were her professional shirt, blazer, work pants and flats. She had let down her hair from its ponytail, was wearing a curve-hugging dress with a pretty low neckline, and was wearing heels, with her red painted toenails peeking out from the front. She even looked more relaxed than when she first walked in.

_No sexually-laced comments or innuendo_, Ted reminded himself again.

"Wow," he breathed out. "You look... stunning."

She blushed. "Thank you," she said. "I hope I'm not too overdressed**—**it just feels nice to dress up a bit."

"Not at all," he insisted. "In fact, now _I_ feel _under_-dressed. I think I should put on a suit or something; Barney would be proud."

Tracy walked over to him and smoothed down his shirt with her hands, fiddling with the buttons. "You look great," she reassured him. "This shirt looks good on you."

"Thanks," he said, flattered. "Come on: let's get our good-looking selves to the table. Food's getting cold."

* * *

They had a nice dinner, with Tracy now in a relaxed and lighthearted mood after a delicious meal and a few glasses of wine. Ted noticed the work tensions releasing from her body, as she moaned approvingly with each bite she took, tipped her head back as she laughed heartily with each joke he told her, and softly stroked his forearm as she listened intently to his stories.

Between the two of them, the bottle of wine was finished, and they had quickly turned frisky, playing footsie under the table as they enjoyed their coffee and baklava. She helped him load the dishwasher afterwards, and they decided to settle on the couch to watch some television. However, they both implicitly agreed that TV was the furthest thing from their minds. Ted at least pretended to look for something interesting on TV before he tossed aside the remote, and dove for Tracy. She laughed warmly as he pressed himself on top of her on the couch.

They proceeded to make out like teenagers, his hands slowly inching up her dress, and hers creeping underneath his shirt, stroking his skin.

"Tracy," he said against her mouth. "Should we talk about," kiss, "what we started to discuss last week?"

She pulled away from his lips. "Isn't this what out bodies are presently doing?" she asked him cheekily.

Ted laughed despite himself. "Ok," he agreed. "Maybe words are unnecessary at the moment." He continued to kiss her, the weight of his body pushing her deeper into the couch cushions. She wrapped her legs around him, pushing him even closer to her. He was definitely getting hard, and figured they'd have to get to the main event soon. But then he realized something.

"Crap," he breathed out.

"What is it?" she asked, concern in her eyes and voice. "Did you... ?"

He climbed off from on top of her and sat up. "I don't have any... I mean, God, I bought all the ingredients to make you waffles in the morning, but forgot the damn condoms! How can you be here in the morning to eat the waffles if we don't have the condoms?"

She sat up, too. "You're going to make me waffles?" Tracy asked, touched.

"Ok," Ted said, not hearing her. "Don't panic. There's a Duane Reade three blocks from here. I'll just run on over..." He looked down at his tented jeans. "Alright, that may not work."

"Ted..."

"I think I have some cling wrap in the kitchen," Ted pondered. "And I may have some rubber bands lying around**—**"

"Ted!" Tracy said, louder.

He stopped freaking out for a second. "What?"

She gave him a pointed look. "Cling wrap? Really?" she asked, laughing. "What's next? Find a heard of sheep to gut and make lambskin condoms out of their intestines?"

"C'mon, Trace," he said. "Be serious. Sheep innards?!"

"Ah, because your cling wrap and rubber band suggestion was to be taken seriously?" she asked teasingly. She reached over for her purse, and dug out a box of condoms. She tossed them onto Ted's lap. "I picked them up on the way here," she explained.

Ted smirked, picking them up. "You were _so_ sure you were going to get lucky tonight?" he teased. "I don't give it up that easy, you know."

Tracy rolled her eyes. "Given our conversation last week, I figured tonight would've been perfect," she said honestly. "Especially since I saw so little of you this week. I missed you."

His eyes softened. "I missed you, too," he said, taking her hands in his and intertwined their fingers. "I guess since we're now talking about it: you still up for this? I know we've only been seeing each other barely three weeks. I figure we could wait a bit longer if you wanted**—**you'd be worth the wait."

"I know," she said. "And, I think if this were anyone else, he'd be waiting a a bit longer. But with you, I don't know: I just don't feel like waiting. You're kind of hard to resist, Ted Mosby."

Ted puffed up his chest. "Really?" he asked, lowering his voice a few octaves.

Tracy laughed, grabbing the throw pillow from behind her back, and playfully hitting Ted over the head with it. "Your modesty is one of the many things that attracted me to you in the first place," she said dryly.

"Ow," he said, laughing and rubbing the back of his head. "Ok, I deserved that."

"So," she said, a twinkle in her eye. "Want to finally give me that tour of your apartment? We can start with the bedroom, perhaps?"

Ted really couldn't believe he had gotten to this point. Three weeks earlier, his life had been completely different, and he honestly didn't think this level of happiness he was feeling now was achievable. And it was all because Tracy had entered his world.

She had, for a long time, been this elusive figure he didn't know he was destined to meet. She was Cindy's roommate, who played the bass and liked T.C. Boyle. The girl with the sexy ankles. She was, unbeknowst to him, the girl that convinced Barney to go after Robin; the new friend Lily made on the train; that "pretty cool chick" who gave Marshall a ride to the inn. She was the beautiful girl strumming her guitar on stage, who captured Ted's curiosity and interest instantly. She was the girl standing alone on that train platform in Farhampton on that rainy Sunday night; Tracy McConnell, the girl with the yellow umbrella.

And here she was now, the mystery girl who wasn't so much of a mystery anymore, sitting before him, gently stroking his hands with her thumbs and gazing intently and affectionately into his eyes. All because Ted had worked up the courage to simply stand up and say "hi".

Sometimes, the smallest gestures can have the biggest payoffs. And Ted felt as if he had won the lottery.

"Sure," he said softly. He stood up and held out his hand and Tracy, without hesitation, got up and took it.

* * *

Afterwards, they lay in his bed, facing each other, Ted lazily tracing patterns on her hip, and Tracy running her fingers through his chest hair. They were in a quiet and blissed-out state, Ted just thinking about what had just transpired. He had slept with dozens of women, yes, and he had loved some of them, sure, but he knew that this was different.

Sex with Tracy was wild and passionate, but also tender and comforting. She was just as in tune to his needs as he was to hers, pretty much the first girl who ever asked him if _he_ was doing ok, if he enjoyed the way she tugged on his nipple with her teeth, or if the speed in which she was stroking his member was sufficient. ("Yes," and "Dear God, yes!")

He looked down at her, and she seemed to be in a pensive mood. "What're you thinking?" he asked, kissing her forehead.

Tracy paused. "I'm thinking how I can slip out of here and get back to my place without making this any awkward," she told him.

Ted's eyes widened, crestfallen, and she quickly took back her words.

"Omigod, I'm so so sorry," she said apologetically, laughing and taking his hand reassuringly. "I was just making a joke, I promise. Oh man, you're _so_ gullible! That's good to know..."

Ted released the breath he was holding in. He wrapped his arms around her. "I am usually at my most credulous immediately after sex," he joked. "Next time, please make these jokes only when I'm fully-clothed. So, what are you _really_ thinking about?"

"I was just thinking about how comfortable I am right now," she said with a sleepy smile. "But that I need to go pee."

Ted grinned. "You mean, go to the bathroom and have your "Oh my God, I just had sex!" freakout?" he said knowingly.

Tracy shrugged sheepishly. "Yeah, pretty much."

"Ok. Go ahead, but hurry back," he said. "I need to go "pee" as well."

"We could just go to the bathroom together and have a joint freakout," she suggested. "Then we can just come back upstairs and knock this thing out again."

"Yeah, you don't want to see that," he recommended. "I won't be at my manliest in that moment. I'll have a shit-eating grin on my face..."

"You already have a shit-eating grin on your face," she said teasingly, in a sing-song voice. Ted smiled even wider at that.

"So do you," he pointed out, giving her a quick peck on the lips. "And I'll be complimenting myself on this achievement in the mirror. "Way to go, Ted! You just had successful intercourse with a woman!""

"That's what you're going to tell yourself?" she asked.

"Well, there'll be a lot of winking and finger gun pointing in the mirror, too."

"Yeah, you're right, I don't need to see that," she agreed. She looked around the room. "Do you have a t-shirt I could borrow?"

"Sure," he said. He rolled out of bed with a groan**—**his lower back was feeling sore**—**and he walked over to the dresser for something she could wear. He pulled out his favourite Wesleyan t-shirt.

Ted walked back towards her, and she was now draped across the bed, staring up at his naked form appreciatively. He felt his cheeks redden, and looked down at his pale upper body and his very slight potbelly; he really had to cut down on all that beer. He had always contemplated going back to the gym to get in better shape, but he was pleased to see Tracy liked what she saw. (And he was definitely grateful to Robin for that time a few years back when she told him he was bigger than Gael. It truly gave him extra confidence in _that_ department with every girl he slept with after that.)

"You better stop staring at me like that," he warned playfully. "Or you'll never make it down to the bathroom."

"_Fiiine_," she said, sitting up and taking the shirt from his hands. "Spoilsport." She slipped it over head and stood up to pull it down. It was pretty huge on her, slipping from the shoulders a bit and, unfortunately for Ted, reached all the way down to her mid-thighs. But he loved how she looked in it.

"I'll be back," she told him, giving him a sweet kiss before leaving the room.

Ted sighed happily. "I'll be here," he said to himself, falling back down onto the bed, his hand on his heart.


End file.
